


Immortal Nerds and Where to Find Them (Hint: it's New York)

by InsertImaginativeNameHere



Category: Baccano!, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Crossover, Gen, I only wrote this because the 1920s setting was too much for me, probable OOC, stop my hands, why did I write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-09 00:00:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8868256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertImaginativeNameHere/pseuds/InsertImaginativeNameHere
Summary: A few shorts of Queenie running into various immortals. May write more as the timeline of Fantastic Beasts progresses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> excuse all minorly ooc ick in here I'm just writing nonsense. I'll probably write more eventually. It might be a while, admittedly. I do really want to have Ronny being unimpressed w Grindelwald too but couldn't think of how to fit it into these shorts. So I ended up writing Queenie instead, which I never expected. Now I'm a tad invested and I want her and Sylvie to be besties. Bc I do. So yeah excuse everything.
> 
> I do want to write her meeting more immortals but we're working off the Fantastic Beasts timeline so this is what we're going with. I also kind of want more scenes in this setting, possibly feature the Daily Days at some point. You know they have wizard informants. Probably house elves, actually. House elves informing on wizard employers. That's my headcanon.
> 
> Also in this au Huey's mother may have been a legit witch or not. He doesn't have any magic either way. None of the immortals have HP magic bc that complicates things. But if anyone was going to, it'd be Huey. I kind of want obscurus Czes tho. And the only reason he's survived being an obscurus is bc of the immortality. That's another thing I could do. 
> 
> But in other news why am I writing this im not even a real Harry Potter fan I just...rly love Baccano. So uh...yeah. *shrugs to eternity and back*

_ The No-maj Intruder  
_ The day the man came storming into MACUSA headquarters, Queenie was on her way out. She saw him, a furious-looking stranger in a dark shirt and white suit who she would have payed no mind to if he didn’t have a face like thunder, impressive eyebrows furrowed in intense irritation. There was something off about him, something that caused her instincts to prickle and hesitate just slightly. His thoughts were a mess, rife with...well, a lot of words that made Queenie blush, frankly, though she could sense the anger in there. Anger, frustration, and… _ no _ . It couldn’t be. She gasped. The man who’d just wandered in casually, like he came here all the time, was a  _ no-maj _ . Impossible. That wasn’t meant to happen.

She was busy. The city was a mess right now. Something was going on, she had places to be. Tina would worry if she was late home, with things as they were. And now a no-maj wandering in off the street, that was potentially very dangerous. Very, very dangerous indeed. She had to tell somebody about this.

Before she could find someone important and pull them aside, the man reached the centre of the room and yelled.

“Okay, so you lot wanna tell me what the  _ fuck _ is going on? Any of you?” He was getting strange looks, this didn’t seem to dissuade him. “Fucking magic-users. Always thinking you can keep everything to yourselves and what ordinary people know can’t hurt them, right? Right? You condescending fucking bastards! Anyone going to explain? Any of you? You think you can do whatever you fucking like and nobody’s gonna question your supreme authority?”  _ god, they’re worse than huey fucking laforet with his head up his ass after all these fucking years _ . 

“Who’s Huey Laforet?” Queenie asked.

The man glared at her. “Great. You’ve got fucking mind-readers now. Never mind that this kind of thing could be useful to  _ actual _ law enforcement-”

“Excuse me, sir, we’re going to have to ask you to come with us. Miss Goldstein, I’d advise you to stay out of it.” Several aurors had advanced upon the man, who rolled his eyes.

“Oh, come with you so you can wipe my memory like you do? Not bloody likely.” He sounded mostly American, but there was a slightly accent slip. He was British, Queenie realised. A long way back. 

A  _ long _ way back, she realised.

_ i’m the oldest fucking person in this building but will they listen to me? no, nobody ever does do they. It’s all ‘oh ignore victor what could he possibly know, not like he has centuries of experience, noooo, what the fuck gave you that idea? dammit. dammit and damn them _ .  _ godfuckingdammit _ .

“Immortal,” Queenie said suddenly. “I don’t believe it. An immortal. Victor, right?”

“Miss Goldstein-”

“Oh, shut up,” Victor shot the auror a pointed look. “Yes. It’s Victor. As for the other thing, you go advertising that and I can assure you I’ll blow this joint wide open, statue of secrecy be damned. Where’s the President? You.” He clicked his fingers, pointing at one of the aurors. “Tell Madam President that Victor Talbot is here. And tell her he’s not in the best of moods thanks to your pet smoke monster tearing shit up around the city.”

“Mr Talbot.” Queenie turned to see Percival Graves approaching. “Percival Graves. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure, though naturally I have heard of you by reputation. You work with the Bureau of Investigation, correct?”

“Love the haircut,” Victor snapped. “Never heard of  _ you _ and I don’t much care to. Now what the hell is going on?”

“I’d love to tell you, Mr Talbot, however enquiries are still in progress-”

_ bullshit _ , Victor thought.

“Bullshit!” Victor replied, not a second later. “I’m going to have words with the president.” He looked over at Queenie and raised his eyebrows. “Goodbye, Miss Goldstein. My advice? Quit this circus show and come work for the Bureau. We could use mind-readers. Plenty of cases could be solved very quickly.”

“I- I don’t think that’d work out.” She smiled at him. “Good luck, Mr Talbot. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Victor didn’t seem convinced. 

Later she would have to tell Tina about the handsome immortal no-maj man she met, who was ushered off for a meeting with the President no less - imagine that, a no-maj meeting with the President. How fascinating! His angry eyebrows and wicked sideburns. The sheer fury on his face. He was interesting. Maybe he’d just get obliviated later. But maybe he was important enough not to. She couldn’t help being intrigued.

However, when she got home, she found herself so tired she didn’t have time to mention it and went straight to bed instead as waiting up for Tina, leaving dinner for her to warm up when she finally got home.

Oh well.

Maybe later then.

And so it slipped her mind completely, only cropping up in her thoughts once or twice after the fact.

 

-

 

Until he showed up again.

“Okay, so you decided to obliviate an entire fucking city. Real fucking clever-”

Needless to say, he wasn’t particularly happy.

 

-

 

_ The Chiamatore  
_ Queenie saw the man with a fox’s eyes walk past into the speako and couldn’t help doing a double take. He was devilishly handsome, that one, faint smirk toying with his lips and quirking them up at the corners, but never reaching a genuine smile. He was wearing a long coat and a sharp suit.

_ Firo  _ **_is_ ** _ improving in knife-fighting, isn’t he? I wonder how long it’ll take him to become a capo. I suppose I could check but... _ **_well, no matter_ ** _. Where’s the entertainment in that?  _

“Mr Schiatto,” the goblin bartender called cheerfully. “How’s business?”

“Hm? Business? Could be better, could be worse. That is the nature of selling such specialty product; honey is not to everyone’s taste, but no matter. And you?”

“‘s good, ‘s good. What brings you this way?”

_...the recent attacks have Maiza worried. Personally, I would pay them no mind but Maiza does love to fret, doesn’t he? Well, no matter. I’m indulging him on this one. Besides, it  _ **_is_ ** _ always amusing to visit these quaint little so-called magicians. They are so interesting, aren’t they? Hm. No matter. _

Queenie stared. A memory of the angry immortal from a week ago resurfaced in her mind. There was something  _ off _ about this man’s thoughts. They weren’t...well, they weren’t so, so  _ jumbled  _ as everyone else’s. They were organised, neat, as if he’d written them out precisely, word for word. Making sure to cross every ‘t’ and capitalise correctly. She could practically hear the capital letters ringing in her ears. It was like...well, what everyone imagined internal monologues were like. It was not like Legilimency normally was at all. It was what everyone assumed it was like,  _ mind-reading _ . So neat. So  _ precise _ . Strange.

Which raised another question; if he wasn’t one of them, and he considered them quaint, what was he?

“Why do you assume I have an agenda?” Mr Schiatto asked with raised eyebrows, downing a glass. “Do you suspect me?” He smirked - or, rather, continued to smirk, albeit more noticeably. “Well, no matter. I can’t exactly blame you for that. A friend of mine asked me to look into certain incidents and make sure...oh, that another mutual acquaintance has no involvement in the matter. Which he doesn’t. But who am I to say no to a night out with you delightful people.”

“Keep your voice down,” the bartender muttered. “All we need is one snitch running off to MACUSA like ‘oh yeah we had a weird fella in, said  _ no matter _ all dramatic like’ and that’ll be it. MACUSA already think there’s some sort of unregistered wizards lurking around the Camorra. You don’t need an official investigation.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Mr Schiatto replied enigmatically. 

The bartender shivered. “Friend, you know how to put the willies on someone real bad. Call it a talent. It’s in the eyes. And the tone. If I went around saying ‘no matter’ at people, I’d be laughed out of town, but you, my man, you pull it off. Somehow.”

“As you said. It must be a talent.” He nursed his drink. 

The bartender nodded, lowering his voice. Queenie tried to look as though she wasn’t listening in, pulling out a pocket mirror to examine herself in while edging a little closer. “Anyway, officially, nothing’s happening. Nobody’s real sure on any of the details, it’s all very hush. Something is going on but-” he shrugged. “Who the hell knows?”

“I could find out for you, if you like,” Mr Schiatto offered.  _ It really wouldn’t be so hard. However, I’d rather not draw any unwarranted attention and...frankly, it isn’t that interesting. I’m sure it will be dealt with in due course. _

The bartender laughed, shaking his head. His thoughts were a mix of entertainment, disbelief, and  _ of course he can what the hell  _ **_doesn’t_ ** _ that sonuvabitch know  _ “Are you kidding me? That’d be stupidly dangerous. For you and me both, pal, though I don’t doubt you’d escape unscathed, I’m not so curious to risk my neck, my business...better to keep out of MACUSA’s books, you get what I’m saying? Not all of us are like you now.”

“Naturally,” the man with the fox-eyes replied.  _ Well, no matter. Don’t say I didn’t offer. _ He glanced over at Queenie and she saw something strange moving in his eyes. Tina would say this was a flight of fancy on her part, but she knew it wasn’t. This man- 

He wasn’t-

He wasn’t  _ human _ .

“What are-” she started to speak and cut off, trapped in the intensity of that gaze.

_ What am I? _ , Mr Schiatto thought, _ It’s complicated to explain. No matter. There are some who would call me a demon, though this is broadly-speaking inaccurate. An alchemist who knows too much is another descriptor I have used. We’ll go with that one, shall we?  _

“As for who I am,” he began out loud without missing a beat. “I am known as Ronny Schiatto. Chiamatore of the Martillo family.”

“I’ve never heard of the Martillo family,” Queenie admitted.

“You wouldn’t have. We’re somewhat small-time and we don’t move in any of the same circles. What is that delightful word you have- ah yes, no-maj? Yes, that. Though, as I said - or, rather,  _ thought _ , I am somewhat of a special case.”

“Which is why MACUSA would be so keen to meet you,” the bartender hissed. “Miz Goldstein here happens to  _ work _ for them, only in a desk job but...nonetheless, my friend. So riddle me this, how’re you gonna ‘well, no matter’ your way out of that one?” 

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

“Yeah, well-”

“She promised,” Ronny pointed out. “No call to obliviate her or any of that yelling of nonsense words and waving twigs. She simply won’t tell anyone. _ Will you _ ?” That sudden, chilling intensity slipped over him again, and the world seemed to fall away. Numbly, Queenie shook her head. “Good. I must say, Miss Goldstein, it’s been a pleasure. Goodbye now.” He slipped a couple of bills to the bartender “Give Miss Goldstein a drink on the house, from me.” He picked up his hat and coat, and made his way to the exit. He didn’t seem to apparate, but Queenie just found herself losing sight of him. Soon enough, he was gone.

The bartender exhaled. 

_ that’s him gone for another decade then, oh of course he’ll show up again out of the blue and I’ll be damned if I didn’t ever tell him no new address but somehow he’ll just show up and won’t have aged a day because that sort of thing happens to  _ **_humans_ ** _ , right? _

“You want more gigglewater, Miz Goldstein? What Mr Schiatto said.” 

“Yeah, sure,” Queenie replied. “Hey, are there many immortals around? I think I met one the other day, he stormed into the MACUSA building in a fury.”

“Oh yeah, I heard about that,” the bartender chuckled. “They say Victor Talbot smiles once in a blue moon. Pissy bastard. He’s been here a coupla times, harping on about prohibition and how the magical community should adhere to laws like anyone else. Absolutely up himself. An’ I know of a few others...not naming any names, but...there is that fella in the same Camorra family as Mr Schiatto. There’s also this longhaired creep knocking about somewhere, but don’t ask how I know about him ‘cause I ain’t telling. Rather not recall that one. There’s supposedly a kid too, but I wouldn’t know. Oh, and there’s the guy who got thrown out of here twice, two decades apart, after telling everyone to smile. Heard rumours about others but...not really my area, y’know? Besides, Mr Schiatto ain’t like them. He’s...well, he is what he is. Well, no matter.” He snorted. “See? Sounds stupid when I say it.”

“Oh no, it doesn’t.”

“You’re too kind. Here’s your drink.” He slid a glass across to her. “You want my advice? Keep your head out of this scene, girl. If he wasn’t such a generous tipper - and wasn’t so good at being casually menacing - there’s no way on this earth that I’d tolerate Mr Schiatto in here. Immortals are bad news, and he’s somewhat worse; good company though, likeable. Drink up and get back home safe to your sister. She’ll be worried sick at this time. Don’t you keep her up.”

“Tina won’t be home. She’s obsessive, you know.”

“You’re telling me,” he muttered. “How many times she haul me in for safety code violations or whatever? God. Real headache waiting to happen right there.”

Queenie downed her glass, giggling pleasantly. “I suppose I’ll see you around.”

“Here’s hopin’. Nothing in this world is promised, after all.”

She apparated home, and found, much to nobody’s surprise, Tina wasn’t back yet. Not that she planned on telling her about the unusual encounter. She couldn’t if she tried. It was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t think how to describe it.

So she set it aside, and started setting aside ingredients for a late supper instead. Tina would like that, for sure.

For sure.

 

-

 

_ The Singer  
_ She ran into the woman in the street - or, rather, the woman ran into her.

“Thank goodness! Finally someone who can powder their face properly. Can I borrow you a minute?”

Only a week or so previously, her sister had said definitively ‘no more associating with No-majs. Queenie, listen to me. We need to keep our head down. I know you’ll miss  _ him _ but-’ and she trailed off ominously. She was right, of course, as always. Sensible and logical-thinking, that was Tina. Always did have her head screwed on right, aside from where work came into it. She wasn’t away with the fairies, as Queenie had always been since childhood. Still, what could it hurt to help someone with her makeup? It was probably much the same for no-majs, right? Or was it? Queenie didn’t really have time to object, as the woman snatched at her arm and dragged her into an alleyway.

_ there’s so little time why is there always so little time everyone always rushing rushing and i should have all the time in the world but no i’m as trapped as anyone, a prisoner of time. why do i bother? i could show up without makeup at all and they would still be wowed they are always wowed so impressed. but there are  _ **_standards_ ** _ we must have standards when there is room to be more beautiful why settle for anything less? _

It was then that Queenie got a good look at the woman. She was...well, she was stunningly beautiful. Everyone always said that Queenie was a beauty but she was practically dull compared with this woman. Her hair was a pristine white-blonde, platinum almost, and was styled in the most fashion-forward way, not a hair out of place. She wore an elegant gown, feather boa draped across her shoulders. Quickly she whisked a little vanity set out of her pocket, along with a tiny makeup brush and offered it to Queenie. 

Queenie stared. Oh. There evidently was a difference. Usually she just waved a wand and got all her makeup done with nothing more than an efficient flick of the wrist. It actually hadn’t occurred to her that there was another way, but of course there had to be. How did no-maj women cope? Was that why so many of them had uneven complexions? Queenie had been wondering.

“Really, there’s no rush. I’d rather be late than show up with a terrible face.”

_ he won’t be there, you’ve changed too much for him to recognise you. i don’t think speakos are really his scene. _

_ but what if he is. _

_ what if he finds you? recognises you? if you’re all made up he wouldn’t stand a chance you could just get him unawares but-  _

_ how do you get revenge then? _

_ need to look different. can’t let him recognise you. ever.  _

_ besides, the lights drain all colour. _

Queenie looked at the woman and tried to stop her hands shaking. Who was the ‘he’? Who did she want to avenge herself on? Why did she need to go unrecognised? The woman noticed her trembling and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay. I can probably touch it up slightly when I get there. I’d just rather look my best. I have a show soon. You should come. Bring a fella along, have some fun. It’ll be a hoot.” The woman smiled sweetly. “What’s your name?”

“Queenie,” she replied. 

“That’s such a pretty name. I’m...Sylvie.”  _ no harm giving her a real name. i was the only woman on the advenna avis anyway, there’s no way she’s an immortal. _

Queenie tried to control her gasp. She failed. “You’re an immortal,” she said, her voice soft, so as not to be overheard. 

Sylvie looked flustered. “How did you-”

“I’m a Legilimens. Wait- you’re still a no-maj, right? Heavens, I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“Legilimens- wait, you’re a witch? I worked with plenty of witches back in the day. Magic and alchemy go hand in hand, you see. Us alchemists were always being accused of witchcraft.” Sylvie sighed. “One of us lost his mother to witch hunts, another was saved from death by the church inquisition.” _huey laforet...and his weird buddy, elmer. now that was a mess._ She saw Queenie wince and threw up her hands in apology. “I’m sorry, I know, it’s insensitive to mention. Oh- and I suppose it’s ridiculous of me to expect you to apply makeup manually. You probably have a spell for that, right? I should have known you were a witch on sight. You’re far too pretty not to be.”

That name again. Huey Laforet. Queenie wondered who he was.

“Thank you.” She reached for her wand. Technically this wasn’t violating secrecy. Immortals, it seemed, didn’t count. They’d been around so much, for so long, and from what Sylvie said, had worked alongside them as alchemists way back. It was hard to imagine that, the magical community working with no-majs like that. But it had happened. And there were immortals here to show for it.

She waved her wand subtly, delicately powdering Sylvie’s face until she looked even more stunning, applying lipstick with a swift wave of her wand as Sylvie puckered her lips waiting. 

Sylvie examined herself in the tiny compact and smiled. “My, haven’t you done an excellent job. You simply must come to the event tonight. I’ll write the address down for you and everything. Bring a gentleman. You do have a gentleman, don’t you? You’re too pretty not to.”

“Well...there is this one fella I like. But we’re not really allowed to-”

“Allowed? If Prohibition had its way, the speakeasies I sing in would be shut down. Live a little. Invite him out, bring him down to this address-” she scribbled it down on a scrap of paper. “And have the night you deserve. I expect to see you there, Queenie.” 

_ girls like her deserve a chance at love. i was younger than her when i lost gretto. i was younger than her when i became immortal. she deserves happiness. not to have it taken from her when it’s so close, so near. _

_ so  _ **_possible_ ** _.  _

She thanked Sylvie, and Sylvie laughed it off. “I’m the one who should be thanking you, silly!” she said, and kissed Queenie’s cheek. Then she was off, the most beautiful woman Queenie had ever seen walking away into the bustle of the city.

Queenie decided to visit Jacob.

She was going to follow Sylvie’s advice. 

And they would have a night to  _ remember _ . No obliviation this time.  
  
Only making memories.

**Author's Note:**

> shd rly write Huey into this somehow.  
> also Elmer. I feel like Elmer meeting Queenie would be wonderful. Elmer meeting Newt too tho. Elmer meeting anyone is delightful.
> 
> I CANT WORK ON NEW AUS THO BC I NEED TO GET BACK ON TRACK W DETECTIVE AU  
> Ehhhhh it's fine it'll be reyyyt.
> 
> runs away from my organisational skills


End file.
